


Breakfast War

by junko



Series: Written in the Scars (of Our Hearts) [36]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya is on the warpath after receiving a letter from his cousin Hiroko and he has Auntie Masama and the Third Seat lined up in his sights.  Renji, meanwhile, started to get a glimmer of exactly what the purification rite's "condom" is going to entail and he's not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast War

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, goes to my dear friend Josey (cestus) and her cheerleading and typo-spotting and general awesome-sauceness.

Byakuya waited patiently for the right moment to strike. His enemies would be blindsided. After all, he’d carefully lulled them into a sense of security with talk of hopeful candidates for heir and discussions of current theatre trends.

Aunt Masama, in fact, looked quite relaxed. She smiled to herself as she poured another cup of tea for Byakuya, careful not to drag the sleeves of her light blue kimono across the breakfast table. 

The Third Seat, Miisho Ōta, beamed foolishly, clearly incredibly honored to have been invited to an intimate breakfast with his captain.

Chickadees chattered happily in the white pine tree visible through doors that had been opened to a view of the garden. 

“You are, the pair of you, quite despicable,” Byakuya said. 

They gasped, in unison. Auntie Massey clutched at her breast.

Before they could recover, Byakuya retrieved his cousin’s letter from his shihakushô and continued. “I’ve been in correspondence with our cousin Hiroko, who informed me of her desire to attend Academy. I have written to her father, and told him that I do not take kindly to a Kuchiki denied her birthright. Thus, I’ve sent along a stipend for her travels as well as an honor guard, so he will have no recourse but to agree. However, I’m sure he, like all of us around this table, only wants what’s best for his daughter.” Byakuya tucked the letter back into the inner pocket of his kosode, and continued. He gave them a level gaze, pinning each in turn. “Tell me now why I shouldn’t break her marriage contract as well.”

“She won’t pass the exam,” Masama said with a sniff. 

“I suspect she will,” Byakuya said sharply. Then, he took a deliberate sip of tea to rein in his temper, “You know full well that she could be accepted for her scientific interests alone. Regardless, I have faith that any Kuchiki will have the power to pass. Though, should the need arise, perhaps you can advise me which examiners are the most easily bought?”

To his credit, the Third Seat looked shocked.

“I should think you would already know,” Aunt Masama huffed. “Isn’t that how you advanced your precious Rukia?”

Byakuya opened his mouth, but then he realized he was only rising to her bait. Closing it, he helped himself to more of the grilled salmon and bettarazuke, pickled radish. After a long, cold moment, he said simply: “You have yet to convince me.”

“Taicho, I’ve been courting my beloved Hiroko faithfully,” the Third Seat started, but then, surprising them all, he added in a rush, “But no one told me she’d been denied Academy! That’s not right! I’m a patient man; I can wait until she graduates.”

Of course he could, because then he’d have twice the jewel for his crown: a Kuchiki and a court guard. 

On the other hand, Byakuya could see Masama re-calculating the loss to potential family alliances. She’d already undersold Hiroko for the advantage of having a spy in the Sixth. That leverage was long lost; Byakuya would never again trust the Third Seat with secrets of any value and, in fact, had not yet even promised to reinstate him. The Third Seat had everything to gain; Masama had everything to lose.

So, would Byakuya’s gambit play out as planned? Or would Masama hold her tongue and allow this barely nobleman claim such a huge prize for no return? 

Byakuya knew by the formality in the way Aunt Masama addressed the Third Seat that he had won. 

“Mr. Ōta,” she began, “It seems things have changed rather dramatically.”

Before the Third could begin whatever pathetic bargaining he might try, Byakuya stood. They both scrambled to their feet. “It seems you have a contract to renegotiate,” Byakuya said. “I’ll await news of the outcome in my office at the Division.”

With that, he left them.

#

Crunching through a bowl of cornflakes, Renji stared at the grumpy Quincy sitting at the breakfast table. Ishida looked just as unhappy to be in Urahara’s shoten as Renji was to have him there. Not that anyone else seemed to mind. Tessai sang some Italian opera to himself as he push dishes away in the cabinets. Ururu shyly offered Ishida a cup of coffee. Jinta grumbled something about having a shop to sweep all by himself and gave Renji the stink eye on his way out. 

Urahara leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee, with a smile that could’ve killed the cat.

Renji glanced back at Ishida and had one, horrible thought: condom.

As if reading Renji’s mind, Urahara set his cup down and asked, “Do you know what the opposite of a shinigami is?”

“Oh fuck,” was all Renji muttered. Reaching for the box, he shook a second helping into his bowl.

Meanwhile Ishida adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. “Well, it’s not a Hollow.”

“What makes you say that?” Urahara asked, clearly impressed.

Ishida glanced at Renji, and then turned his attention to Urahara, “It seems they have a lot in common, is all.”

Renji’s spoon hit the table with a bang. “Who you calling a Hollow?”

Ishida was not easily intimidated. “Your giant snake-thing looks like a bone mask, have you see it? Plus, it uses a Cero!”

“I’ll have you know that’s completely different! That’s Baboon-Bone Canon—“ ah, shit, whatever, it was a lot like a Cero. Giving up on this argument, Renji pointed a finger at Ishida’s chest and demanded of Urahara, “Please tell me that annoying little Quincy four-eye’s not the condom.”

Urahara looked at them with a kind of proud smile on his face. Then he clapped his hands together happily. “You’re both so astute! I’m hardly going to have to explain anything at all.”

#

Byakuya spent much of the morning going over last night’s raid with Nanako Imai, the Fourth Seat. She had brought tea with her, which Byakuya appreciated. A curious combination of relaxed and formal, she sat seiza easily enough, but didn’t hesitate to pour herself tea. Between this sort of cavalier nobility and similarly chestnut-colored skin, the Fourth Seat rather reminded Byakuya of Yoruichi.

He had yet to decide if that was a good thing or a bad one.

“According to the report I got this morning from the Second, the prisoner continues to insist that it’s Kaien Shiba who masterminded their raid,” she said, helping herself to more tea. 

Byakuya took the report she offered him and scanned it. “What are people saying about that?”

She looked a little surprised to be asked. “You mean in the Division?”

He’d meant, of course, the gossip from the Division soldiers assigned to last night’s adventure, the scuttlebutt on the street, or casual hints gleaned from chatting with whomever brought over the report, but Byakuya had to remind himself that not everyone was blessed with Renji’s prodigious social skills and penchant for gossip. 

“What do you think?” Byakuya asked.

“It doesn’t seem possible, does it, sir?” she asked. “The physical description the prisoner gave seems like a perfect match, though to be honest, I never interacted that much with the lieutenant when I served in the Thirteenth.”

Byakuya glanced up. Should he have known Nanako had transferred from Ukitake’s division? Byakuya tried to hide his surprise, by saying, “We’ve had the fortune of serving the same captain.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling shyly, “I didn’t know! Really?”

Byakuya nodded. Normally, he might have taken this opportunity to bond with his subordinate about this commonality. But, Byakuya still felt the sting of his last confrontation with Ukitake and Kōyraku. He was in no mood for gushing adoration of Ukitake’s kindness or patience or whatever. In point of fact, Byakuya was still fairly convinced that Ukitake could have played a very dark role in all of this, by helping resurrect Shiba from the dead.

There was, however, a sticking point that had been niggling in the back of Byakuya’s brain for some time. He’d been lying awake much of last night—well, mostly wishing Renji were snoring beside him, but also wondering how the bandits had such intimate knowledge of Kuchiki supply lines. How did they know the route? How did whomever the kagema, Daisuke, entertained know that tea was one of the items being shipped?

Was there a spy in the Kuchiki household?

There was a knock at the door. Byakuya could see the kneeling shadow beyond the rice paper. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” came the Third Seat’s voice. “But, the captain and I have unfinished business.”

The growl in Miisho’s voice made Byakuya suspect things had not gone well with Aunt Masama. It was tempting to dismiss him, but nothing good ever came of spitefully sending away an angry man. Byakuya stood up, “We will finish our meeting later, Nanako.”

She bowed in understanding, “Hai, Taicho.”

On her way out, she let Miisho in. “I’ll take those teahouses,” he said without sitting down.

“In exchange for?”

Miisho frowned. “My silence, of course. Or have you changed your mind and want the entire division to know about your fraternization with the lieutenant?”

He said it loud enough that any passing soldier could have heard. Miisho must be feeling very reckless, indeed.

“Shut the door,” Byakuya commanded sharply. 

Miisho glared at him for a moment, before seeming to decide that this might very well be a prelude to negotiation. With a huff, he complied. 

Watching this man who had served the Sixth Division so loyally for hundreds of years, Byakuya’s stomach soured. All of that time and service had come down to this: hush money.

“Many things have changed, Third Seat Ōta,” Byakuya explained, turning to glance out the window at the bright blue, cloudless sky. “The secret you hold has devalued. You are no longer the only one in possession of it. Moreover, as I plan to bring Renji legally into my family, I am already facing the dilemma of how and when to inform the division of our relationship.”

Miisho’s face grew very red. “You’d make that filthy Rukongai dog a Kuchiki before me?”

Byakuya raised an eyebrow, but said simply. “I would.”

“Your family—“

“Has been placated by the offer of a new heir,” Byakuya cut him off. “Not that my family is any concern of yours.” Before Miisho could protest further, Byakuya raised his hand. “However, I find there is still a great deal of value in your taking an early, quiet retirement.”

Miisho’s mouth shut quickly. His posture likewise subdued. 

Byakuya nodded. “I will not only muster you out honorably, but you may take with you half of our teahouse properties.”

“Half? But, you promised---“

“Surely you can live comfortably on this offer?” Byakuya asked. “Given your radical change in fortune, I would think it would be wise not to be overly greedy.” Byakuya gave him a strong look to imply that nothing was owed, this was a peace offering, nothing more.

“And in exchange, what? I leave without a word of protest?”

“Yes,” Byakuya said. It saddened Byakuya deeply to still hear such vitriol in Miisho’s words. Byakuya let out a small breath and tried to keep the tiredness from his voice. “But I will make sure your discharge is an honorable one. You have served this division in good faith for a long time. Despite everything, I would prefer to honor that.”

“Honor, how can you even talk of it?”

Byakuya felt his reiatsu spike. With effort he wrestled it back under control. “I can quite easily. You see, I no longer find my love for Renji to be something shameful to hide in the dark. Therefore, if you wish to stay, you may. Resume your place as my Third. If you can be happy for us, you may come and dance at our wedding.”

There was no hesitation. “I’ll take the teahouses.”


End file.
